Filling the Spaces
by GoldenArcadia
Summary: Bonnie Bonnett is an incredibly ordinary woman and the last person S.H.I.E.L.D. would ever hire with her under-qualified art resume. But then again, she's perfect for one job and filling in the spaces has never been more important. OCxCaptain. Smut.


1

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><p>The stars always looked so far away.<p>

Bonnie laid quietly under the thick covers of her bed with the thoughts of the stars chasing away the pursuit of dreams. In the darkness of her apartment, the couple living beneath her floor were arguing again. She could make out each word, heavily muffled from the wooden floors.

_"You slept with him, didn't you? Don't lie to me!"_

_"YOU had no right going through my things - what the hell do you expect?"_

_"A faithful GIRLFRIEND, that's what I expect! Not some... some chick dating other men on the side!"_

_"Well MAYBE you should stop concentrating on work so much and realize I still exist!" _came the smothered scream.

She let out a small exhale before turning her back from her Brooklyn window and closed her eyes to force herself to sleep.

The next morning was no different then any other. She slept in a little later then she should've before getting out of her bed and making her way to the small bathroom. Sleep last night didn't come quickly. She was woken up once to the sounds of something breaking underneath her floorboards. Showering, Bonnie lathered her dark hair with shampoo and condition before rinsing and repeating. She scrubbed her skin with the lavender soap she had bought earlier that week until her flesh was pink. For the next forty-five minutes after that she stood beneath the stream of warm water until the pads of her fingers were soft and puckered. Bonnie slipped out of her shower and fished for the grey towel hanging on the silver hook behind the open door.

Drying herself off she tied the towel around her wet hair and into a turban on top of her head as she peeked a reflection of herself in the basin mirror. Bonnie wasn't exactly pleased with how she looked. She was small and slender, with frail looking wrists and ankles that had endured enough commentary when she was in high school. Titling her head to the side, smokey optics of the deepest greys stared back. "Well.." she managed to say, rubbing a hand over her alabaster skin. "You've survived twenty three years so far.. you're an independent illustrator.. you've been living alone for almost two years.. you're doing good for yourself, Bon."

Bonnie. A name dedicated to her grandmother's passing. She guessed her mother felt too guilty to change it to anything else.

Before she could scrutinize her appearance any longer, the phone rang deep inside her apartment.

Bonnie left her reflection in nothing but the towel on her head and underwear (after a while when you're living alone you tend not to care anymore). Her apartment was small, but had a homely feeling in it. Posters representing the old propaganda of the wars and advertisements hung along the interior red-brick wall, possessions that were more for comfort than style furnished her home. A small wooden counter-top bar was the only thing separating the kitchen from the living area and upon the end of it was the source of the shrill ringing.

She picked it up, making a beeline to the fridge. "Hello?"

"Is this Miss Bennett speaking?"

The voice on the other end sounded unfamiliar. Bonnie paused for a moment before taking out the milk from the cold shelf. "..yes it is. May I ask who is calling?"

"This is Angela Rozotti from the employment agency, we've been sending emails to you. Have you been receiving any of them?"

"Yes, of course." Her wonderfully, full spam folder.

"Then you are aware that you missed an appointment with a potential employer yesterday at 1PM by Madison Garden?"

Slender dark brows furrowed as she plopped two Poptarts in the toaster. Bonnie was too stubborn to admit she slipped up over the phone. "I wasn't aware that I agreed on someone calling me about it."

_And if she missed the appointment, what good was it calling now?_

"We normally do not contact you as it is against our policy. However.. the employer yesterday seemed rather insistent on seeing you. He's asked to request another meeting with you today.. at your residence this morning."

"Hold up." Bonnie stopped what she was doing and stood in the middle of the kitchen. She had already made plans today to go see her... well. To go do something. "First of all. I thought you guys aren't meant to give out my details to anyone like that. And secondly, who's coming?"

Before Angela could reply her reasons why she had failed at her job, a knock on her apartment door resonated down the hall startling Bonnie. She mentally cursed and placed the phone back in it's cradle before hastily assessing her apartment. A sink full of plates, magazines strewn haphazardly over the table, a mountain of clean clothes sitting in the middle of her couch. _Shit._ All in all, her apartment was looking like a mess. It wasn't her fault! She wasn't expecting some guy coming to her house... ever - especially for a job. Glancing around quickly to the pile of washing she had pulled out of the dryer that morning, she hurriedly grabbed some shorts and a tank-tee, flipping on a bra quickly. Another knock that was more insistent banged again, resulting in Bonnie to shout, "Coming!"

Oh god. It felt like a nightmare unraveling. Grabbing the pile of clothes, she ran around her apartment for several moments, shoving items into cupboards and throwing the towel on her head in the dryer. Unsettled at the third knock, Bonnie threw the shorts off again and looked for something more suitable - plain black jeans. Hobbling down the hallways finally and raking her hands through her damp hair, she arrived at the door. "Who is it?" she asked, peering out the tiny spyhole, the thick sounds of her racing heartbeat rushing past her ears.

A man, perhaps in his mid forties stood on the outside. He was dressed in a crisp dark suit that reminded Bonnie more of a uniform. His face was kind at least, no hair though. Hearing Bonnie finally at the door, he looks slightly amused. "My name is Agent Coulson, I'm here to speak with a Miss Bonnie Bennett if she is there."

"You're an agent?" Her voice was wary. She should've just pretended to not be home. She wasn't guilty of anything - except for a few late bill payments and all...

"I'm not here to arrest anyone. I'm just here for an interview with Bonnie Bennett."

It would be a few moments until the sounds of the locks along her door were being unlocked inside. As the door opened, Bonnie studied the Agent briefly. Agent Coulson however, did not do the same. He looked rather calm to her, oozing off a friendliness. "Madison Garden?" she asked, squinting.

"And you must be Bonnie," Agent Coulson confirmed.

She opened the door a little wider, allowing the agent to come into her house. Locking the door behind him, Agent Coulson awaited for Bonnie to lead them deeper inside. "Missed you yesterday," he commented. "Were you busy?"

_Say yes, just say yes._ "I wasn't aware that I had an interview yesterday," she replied sheepishly, making her way into the kitchen. "Sorry about that."

As he wandered around her living space, his eyes came to the posters on her wall. Bonnie fidgeted slightly, a little disheveled at the sudden guest.

"Uh.. would you like a coffee Agent Coulson? Or tea perhaps? Juice?"

"No, no. Thank you. I already had something to drink." He spoke over his shoulder, hands in his pants pockets. "..You designed these?"

Whether it was his way of making small talk, Bonnie felt obliged to converse. "Ah no, I bought those at a second-hand store on 42nd. My designs are still on the computer."

He nodded appreciatively before looking around her living space. Feeling slightly paranoid that her apartment wasn't clean as she liked it to be, she decided to focus on getting them both some cold glasses of water. Agent Coulson walked up to the record player standing in the corner by the windows. Along side of the musical contraption was a shelf of vintage records. Thumbing over the spines curiously, he recognized several bands of his teenage past. _So she appreciated good taste of music. _

Agent Coulson looked over to Bonnie and approached the counter. Feeling her unease, the agent took a seat at the small sun-light table by the window as she took the chair opposite of him. "I know.. this may sound a little, unprepared," Bonnie inwardly cringed at her introduction as she gave him a glass of water. She quickly began fixing the magazine's out of his way. "But.. uh. What exactly is this interview for again? I mean- what I'm meant to say is that my resume- I wouldn't have expected it to be good enough to catch an agent's attention."

"It wasn't." Coulson responded and the briefest of hurt looks flashed over her expression before it was smoothed over with an apparent 'wasn't surprising'. "But it caught our attention for another matter that makes you a potential candidate. The only candidate."

A tension was weighing down on her shoulders. "What is it exactly that you are looking for from me?"

"Think of it as babysitting."

"...Babysitting?" She wasn't expecting that.

"Yes."

"Uh.." She blinked a few times, feeling a sense of relief coming down. It stopped. "Who am I babysitting exactly?"

"His name is Steven Rogers. Or you may also know him as Captain America."

Bonnie's eyes widened at the words. She wasn't sure that she had heard him correctly. "_The_ Captain America?" she whispered, leaning forward a little. But her excitement faltered and the image of an old, man that needed his diapers changed filled her mind. She sucked in a small breath. "Isn't he.. old?" She didn't want to sound insulting, Coulson seemed rather proud when he mentioned his name.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" And with it Coulson fished out a business card from his pocket. Bonnie hesitantly reached over and looked at it in her fingers. The embossed silver letters of "S.H.I.E.L.D" stared back at her. "Tomorrow, at four. The address on the back of the card. Think you can make it?"

* * *

><p>She took the train. Considering that she didn't have a car just yet. Sitting against the window with the card in her hands, she looked down at it once again. She was nervous to say the least. It rattled her bones, made her lightheaded and palms slick with a cold sweat. Bonnie was still baffled by yesterday's meeting with Agent Coulson that she couldn't even sleep properly and spent it on scrubbing every inch of her apartment clean. After Googling all that she could about S.H.I.E.L.D. and what it represented, she felt sick.<p>

Sick because she was just a normal, positively ordinary young woman offered to do a not-so ordinary job.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea. Maybe it was. But she couldn't turn down the benefits of looking after Captain America easily. She was getting paid a good monthly sum of five thousand dollars. That was enough to cover her bills and rent as well as having spare money on the side for other expenses. Bonnie wasn't stupid with money, she knew that she had responsibilities to look after first. But it still was sweet..

_"Your job is to fill the gap of history that he missed. Connect it all together for him, get him up to speed. Get him comfortable in our world."_

_She felt overwhelmed at that stage. She didn't know much about history, considering America wasn't her home country. She had only moved here a year ago. She felt like she was having an outer body experience. "But you're aware that I'm not a history buff-"_

_"You don't need to know everything of everything. Teach him things. Using a microwave, the internet. Bands he missed. The other stuff? The wars? We will keep him up to date with that side."_

_Bonnie had been standing up, leaning back against her counter. Her hair was dry, their conversation was long. And they still thought she was the only candidate?_

_"Agent Coulson... what makes you so sure you could trust me with something like this? I mean, I still struggle with paying bills on time, let alone this."  
><em>

_"Are you saying you want to back down from this once in a lifetime opportunity?"_

As Bonnie merged from the subway and into the light of day, she walked several blocks towards the headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D. She dressed herself simply, boots, jeans, jacket and a shirt. Nothing too plain but nothing over the top either. She had spent over an hour fidgeting in front of the mirror, criticizing her attire. She forced herself to eat something for breakfast, even though her stomach wanted to throw it all back up.

She took a moment to stare in awe at the glass building towering up into the sky. Sunlight glinted off the beacon and back down at Bonnie's squinted gaze. So this was it. She was here, she couldn't miss the building even if she tried.

Once she walked through the doors and into the enormous foyer, she found herself in the currents of black suits and black ties. As she glanced around she noticed there were hardly any security flanking doorways or walkways. But then again, why would she be so surprised? S.H.I.E.L.D. was the highest of homeland security. Any threat would be idiotic to just walk into a beehive.

Making her way sheepishly to the long, slender counter and bumping into a few bodies apologetically as she approached the woman sprinkling her fingertips over her keyboard. She was as crisp as the environment around her. Her hair perfectly pulled back from her face, standing to attention in heels and business attire.

"Excuse me.."

"Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

Slightly intimidated by her professionally friendly tone, Bonnie tried her best not to look stupid. "I'm here to meet up with Agent Phil Coulson."

Fingers peppered the keyboard again. "Name?"

"Bonnie."

"Your full name, miss."

Flushing red, she replied. "Bonnie Bennett."

Typing sounds again. "And your reason to see Agent Coulson?"

"For business. He gave me his personal card." Fishing the card out of her jean's pocket, she handed it over the counter. The receptionist took it and looked it over before Agent Coulson's voice resonated down the hall.

"Miss Bennett! It's good to see you arrived," the agent in question walked towards them both from the elevators. The receptionist issued Bonnie a "Visitor's Card". He smiled his smile and shook Bonnie's hand before ushering the wide-eyed girl to his side.

"You were questioning my appearance?" Bonnie asked, keeping up to his pace.

"Not exactly." He pressed the arrow pointing down as the elevator doors slid open. "You found the place easily enough it seems."

"It's impossible to miss honestly," she confessed as she stepped inside with him. "The letters on the side of the building gave it away."

"I never quite asked you about your accent." He stood beside her, hands held together in front of him in a casual manner. "Australian is it? European?"

She knew he was making small talk. Bonnie's attention drew behind her in the glass elevator, watching the grounds engulf them and cutting out the daylight as they descended. The lights above in the small shaft made it possible to see. "Australia. I was born there and decided to move here to broaden my horizons."

"How do you like it so far?"

"America is different. I like it, I'm glad there are some similarities I can relate to though. The language mostly."

She found herself suddenly interested in the hem of her jacket. "Have you been to Australia?" She asked.

"No. Though I wouldn't mind it one day. See all those kangaroos."

Bonnie found herself smiling, relaxing somewhat as the sped downwards. After a few moments, the elevator finally slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. A long hallway filled with doors came into view and Agent Coulson took no time to begin walking again.

"Agent Coulson," Bonnie kept up to his pace. "How long will I be looking after Steve Rogers?"

"Three months probationary. Six months after that. We would give you the year but S.H.I.E.L.D. requires Captain America's return to our services." The last bit made Bonnie curious but she acted no further on it. "I understand that this may be a lot to take in at such short notice but your cooperation to this job would mean immediate success for a lot of people."

The agent entered a room by swiping his card and scanning his fingerprints. He showed Bonnie to do the same with hers. The light flashed green and she followed him inside.

The room was intentionally dark and gently lit by the soft white lights pouring through the wall-wide window before them. Several empty seats filled the space behind them. As the door closed, Bonnie's eyes looked out at the window to the enclosed room before them. Inside was a figure of a strongly-built blonde male lying on top of a linen bed. The room reminded Bonnie of a cell with it's minimal décor. Connected to the male's arms were IV drips and a machine that beeped rhythmically. He was naked, as Bonnie could tell, with the sheets covering the space below his waist and above his knees.

Her heart lightly skipped at the sight of him and she inwardly scowled. The image of an old, wry man was suddenly filled with a man of utter military perfection. She felt her throat go dry at the sight of him. His was handsome to say the least and Bonnie wondered distantly if that would be a good thing or not.

"Agent Coulson.." The longer she looked at this perfect man, the more she felt tiny and doubtful. Here she was, standing in a room several stories below on the most protected governmental soil looking into a room at the pinnacle of human anatomy. She felt out of place. Her. _Her. _A week ago she was struggling with money. She would've never expected someone as ordinary as herself to be here. In the place where the world's best scientists would stand. A young woman not knowing her purpose in life.. to this. "Why me?"

Agent Coulson was still looking at the man on the table as he spoke. His words were carefully selective.

"Why not?"


End file.
